250 THE ZOOLOGIST. 
A DAY IN THE ESTEREL HILLS. 
‘By Couuinewoop INGRAM. 
To-pay (March 22nd) I made an excursion into the Esterel 
Hills in search of some of my old bird friends. I was espe- 
cially anxious to renew my acquaintance with that most 
attractive species, the so-called ‘‘ Dartford” Warbler. By 
the way, ‘‘ Dartford” is rather a misleading prefix, and I 
think ‘‘Furze Wren” is perhaps the better name—for this 
bird is no longer common near the old Kentish town, as it 
doubtless was a hundred and twenty years ago, when Latham 
described it from Bexley Heath. Besides, the western por- 
tions of the Mediterranean basin are more properly its head- 
quarters. Furthermore, the bird found in the South of England 
and North-western France differs in several minor respects from 
the typical bird, and has rightly been recognized as a subspecies 
by modern ornithologists, who now call it Sylvia undata dart- 
fordensis.* But all this does not concern us on this bright sunny 
day in the Esterel Hills—we are looking for the living bird, 
whose habits we know are the same, whether we meet it on the 
gorsey heaths of Surrey or the thyme-scented slopes of Provence. 
But even in the Midi it is very local—often inexplicably so. For 
instance, to-day I spent the whole forenoon without seeing a 
single Furze Wren, and I was obliged to push on to a certain 
little corner of the hills, where I knew from experience, now 
many years old, I would be sure to find it tolerably abundant. 
Nor was I disappointed. Very soon I espied the slender form of 
a Furze Wren flying with a jerky, ‘‘flickering” effort to an 
outstanding tuft of tree-heath, whence it immediately com- 
menced to pour out a pleasant little ‘‘ Whitethroaty” ditty. 
This song is perhaps not so impulsive as that of its ally, and 
the brief tune is, I think, more often terminated bya pretty little 
* In a future number I hope to make some critical remarks on the 
Furze Wrens of Western France. 
